


Irony

by nixiswriting



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Dating, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nixiswriting/pseuds/nixiswriting
Summary: "Isn’t it ironic that the one person that can make you happy also is the reason why you stay up late listening to sad music and makes you wish you were dead."





	Irony

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The story is fictional. I took the quote from a post on tumblr.

_Isn’t it ironic that the one person that can make you happy also is the reason why you stay up late listening to sad music and makes you wish you were dead?_

 

I continued tapping my fingers on the hard surface nervously, anxiously. Netflix was on yet I wasn't sure what episode I was on anymore, or even what was playing. I sigh and peak at my phone which I had shoved angrily to the other side of the table. 

 _Enough!_ I was not doing this. I stood up and angrily banged my hands on the table as if making my point. I glared at my phone before flipping my hair and turning my back to it, going to the fridge in looks for junk food.

So he was going to be that way. Just go out on a date, make me think that he enjoyed himself and then forget about me completely?

I open the fridge door, and sigh longingly as my mind replayed the date all over again. A blind date I thought went pretty well; afterall I was quite an expert in blind dates. I could read where a blind date was going to go within the first 15 minutes. Did the guy make an effort to look decent to meet his blind date? Did he even notice me or make a comment on my own looks? Was he engaging in a conversation or was he looking down my dress?

Marco checked all the boxes, he made an immediate adorable impression when he smiled at me and told me his friend had understated how good I looked; before shyly holding his hand out for me to shake.

He asked me what I preferred, and gave suggestions on where we could eat and then we moved elsewhere for drinks. He never ordered for me but always gave helpful suggestions on what he thought was good. The night progressed with us chatting about each other's lives and interests. It looked like we couldn't stop talking; we might not have agreed on everything but we were so curious about each other. By the time I hailed a cab, way past my bedtime and many hours past what I would consider a good time to call a date off, afterall I don't want to look too eager or pleased, we were already planning when to meet next.

He bid me goodbye and asked me to give him a call once I got home. Which I did. We ended up exchanging messages for another hour before finally falling asleep with the biggest grin.

Two days later and he hasn't contacted me and neither have I reached out to him. I know how the game works, about the whole _'don't text too soon, wait for him to come to you'_  and all that but after two days shouldn't he be messaging me already. Especially since we're to have our second date tomorrow?

So I gave in. 

I messaged him first.

Shame on me, but I just couldn't wait anymore. I just needed to know if I needed to get over him; I just wanted him to reply and show he cared.

Three hours later, and he still hasn't replied. Worst of it all, I know that he has read my message. What does it mean?

I hate all these dating games....well, I hate it when it's done to me.

_*ding*_

I hear a notification pop in my phone and quickly run to my phone. I groan. It was just a notification from duolingo. I don't care that I haven't played in days duolingo!

I cover my face with my hands. Good god, I was pathetic, waiting for a message from a boy who obviously was being too polite during our date to reject a girl who probably looked like she tried too much; tried too much with her dress, with her hair, with her make up, with finding things to discuss because Marco was being such a kind and good looking person.

I drop my phone and slide it away from me. My shame. I turn the TV off and drag myself towards the fridge once again, take my half open sparkly white wine which is most probably flat now, and pour myself a hefty amount on my mug. I couldn't be bothered to drink it out of the proper glass.

I feel so silly. I really liked this guy, and I had built sandcastles in my head about what could happen the next time we met, and our future. Fuck. I already thought about our future. He just made me felt so giddy and happy, and me. I didn't even have to pretend I was nice or agree with everything he said. I could just be me. 

But now happiness is the last thing in my mind. Whereas after our date I felt like I was floating on a fluffy cloud above the world with the sun caressing my skin and the wind tickling me. Now I felt like I was left in the middle of nowhere with nothing to save me from the tempest and thunderstorm.

"Alexa, play  _It Will Rain_." 

My Amazon Home device let the sad tune of Bruno Mars' song fill my small studio apartment. I am so pitiful. Feeling miserable with a guy I went out with once; granted we were out for nearly half the day and I know him more than some of my Uni classmates I have been with for the past months; it was still just one date. 

I sipped my white wine, mourning the loss of a relationship that could have been amazing.

He was a football player, what else was I supposed to expect. Just because we have common friends who are amazing people doesn't necessarily mean that he too would be an amazing person. I probably misread him thinking he was different; no, I didn't misread - I projected. I projected an image I wanted because he's so fucking cute with those dimples and innocent impish smile and sincere looking eyes that felt like they were all attention on me. 

Reluctantly, I took my phone and hovered over his contact, ready to delete his number. The easiest way to get over someone - out of sight, out of mind. I didn't want to think about him anymore.

I didn't want to think about he laughed at my corny jokes or how he looked so passionate talking about football anymore, or how interested he looked while I explained why I liked stout beer so much. I don't want to think about how gentlemanly he was and how he always looked like he was paying attention to me and to what I was saying. I don't want to think about how I felt butterflies in my tummy when he barely grazed my cheek with his lips in the softest of kisses when he bid goodnight and I thought about breaking my no kiss on the first date thing. I didn't want to remember how beautiful my name sounded on his lips or how infectious his laughter was. I didn't want to think about his lashes resting on his cheeks, wishing it was me who could kiss his cheeks with every blink.

I didn't want to think about Marco anymore. I'm sure he wasn't thinking about me. I groaned. Can the world just open up and eat me. What a mess I made. He must have thought I was such a dork, or worse, a fangirl so in love with him.

Resolved, I was about to delete his number when Marco's name appears on the screen as an incoming call. I freeze. What do I do? All of a sudden I feel my dead heart beating again. Oh no, it's beating too fast now! What do I do? What do I do? I panic, running to the mirror to check that I look presentable until I recall that this is a phone call. I clear my throat and take a deep breath before answering.

"Hello?" I tell myself not to sound too eager or too happy. Relax. He might be calling to cancel.

"Hi. Am I disturbing you? Shit. I didn't realize it was so late. Shit! I said shit. Shit! I didn't again." He grumbled and I couldn't help but giggle. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

"No need to apologize," I assure him. It felt so good hearing his voice, but he did sound tired.

"If you're tired," I offered. "I should go - "

"No!" He was quick to stop me. "I...I like talking with you," he confessed. "I should have messaged you before, I have just been so busy. I hope we're still on for tomorrow night?" He asked sounding a little insecure.

How could he even ask, I thought with a face-splitting smile.

"But I'll understand if I've screwed it up. You deserve someone a bit more conscientious."

I shook my head but the silence on the other end reminded me that he "Of course we're still a go for our date, unless you don't want to."

"I want to!" He was quick to reassure and his tone made us both laugh. "Great. Great." I can just hear the smile in his voice. "I can't wait to see you."

I can't help biting my nails as I try to contain the giddiness in me. "Me too," I quickly say. So much for trying to contain myself and not to sound too eager.

I hear him chuckle on the other end and I feel my face warm up from embarrassment.

"How was your day?" He asked, sounding like he was genuinely curious, rather than only for small talk.

How can talking to him just improve my mood a hundred percent from what it was just 10 minutes ago? I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smile as I recount to him how my day was. 

 

_It's also ironic how the person who keeps you up late listening to sad music and making you wish you were dead was the one person who also made you happy._

 

_**[end]** _


End file.
